


fire on fire

by petitfleur (moonfleur)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Making Out, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, kind of, they’re just idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/petitfleur
Summary: Renjun is calm, collected, his words perfectly crafted to incite the reactions he wants from their viewers, and then cue Chenle who swoops in like the demon spawn that he knows he is, words honed and sharpened, ready to tear Renjun apart in seconds.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 18
Kudos: 99





	fire on fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [englishsummerrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/gifts).



> Hello. This is for Yoon because it is thanks to their never ending Chenle brain worms that I have for this.
> 
> This is also the product of this [cursed clip](https://twitter.com/shrimpxuxi/status/1309137852626862085) so you can thank renle and whoever compiled this for making this happen. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

This is how it always begins. 

Renjun is calm, collected, his words perfectly crafted to incite the reactions he wants from their viewers, and then cue Chenle who swoops in like the demon spawn that he knows he is, words honed and sharpened, ready to tear Renjun apart in seconds. It is a game they like to play, if game is the right word for it. Donghyuck likes to call it a proverbial dick measuring contest and, well, he isn’t wrong.

It is a fight to the death to see who caves first, to see who breaks the porcelain shell that is their carefully crafted idol images in front of their thousands of viewers. Most of the time it is Renjun because, for all that he likes to pretend that he has an exterior made of steel, he doesn’t. And Chenle knows exactly where his weak points are. They slip into the chinks of his armour like the blades they are and he will cry out, pretend that he hates it when he really, really doesn’t. It is a game after all, and Renjun will never reveal that it is when he loses that he truly wins.

This is how it starts again.

Except this time there is no audience to witness their verbal sword fight. This time, they are in the dorms, an audience of only four other people as Chenle talks smack to him about his cooking. It is stupid, a small issue, a _non-issue_ , but he riles Renjun up and Renjun takes the bait.

“Are you sure you know how to use that?” Chenle’s voice rings from across the living room just as Renjun picks up the large pair of wooden chopsticks that he _definitely_ knows how to use.

Renjun shoots him a withering look over his shoulder and is faced with the image of Chenle perched on the edge of their sofa, back against Jeno and looking very much like a cat who's got all the cream in the world. “Who do you think cooks in this household?”

Chenle folds his arms across his chest, lips quirking in a smirk. “Jaemin hyung.”

“I swear to god, Chenle,” Renjun says, hand tightening around the pair of chopsticks. “If you don’t shut up I will stuff these up your nose.”

“You’ll have to reach it first.”

“I can reach it! You want to come here and find out?” Renjun half yells, hand poised over his head, chopstick at the ready, the action only halted by the hand that clamps down around his wrists.

“Jesus,” Jaemin says, bringing Renjun’s hand back down to an acceptable level and taking the chopsticks from him for good measure. “Do you guys ever stop? How the fuck do you even have so much shit to yell about all the time? Don't you guys get tired?”

“No,” they both say at the same time before shooting each other matching glares, Chenle with his stupid smug grin to match and Jaemin sighs.

“Okay. I am going to finish up with dinner. You two, you are going to sit on that couch and you are not going to fight until I am done. Hyuck,” he calls out and Donghyuck peeks his head out from Jaemin’s bedroom. “If they start fighting you are legally obligated to do whatever you want to them.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face is downright terrifying, and Renjun knows he is going to take full advantage of this situation to do whatever his little gremlin brain wants. So he listens to Jaemin, as much as possible, which obviously doesn’t stop him from shooting Chenle a dirty look, which really only makes him smile wider and Renjun want to strangle him even more.

He seats himself beside Chenle very, _very_ , begrudgingly, and Chenle leans over to whisper in his ear. “See? I told you Jaemin is the one who cooks in this household.”

Renjun elbows him in the side before turning to glare at him, not realising how close their faces are until they are face to face, barely a hair’s breadth from each other. It doesn’t stop him though. “Mmm, but I’m the one who handles all the knives,” he says softly, a smile curling on his lips as he breathes out an answer into the space between them.

“How scary.”

Renjun grits his teeth, breath coming out heavily through his nose. “I swear I’ll fucking-”

“Urgh,” Donghyuck interrupts, grimacing as he seats himself facing them on the floor. “You know, sometimes I can’t tell if you guys wanna kill each other or kiss each other.”

Donghyuck’s words have them leaning away from each other purposefully, not so much a recoil, and not before they exchange a look, one laden with words they will never, ever say. Because they are playing a game, after all, and Renjun is determined to win.

✂︎

That is just the start.

Now, whenever they fight Renjun is aware of an underlying current of _something,_ woven delicately between the words they use as weapons but still so absolutely palpable. This is something new, something extra, like a hidden level in a game and it sets his heart racing when he catches Chenle eye across the room, gaze challenging despite the fact that there are about five cameras on them.

It is a lobby of jabs at each other throughout the entirety of this filming.

_(“I thought you were supposed to be good at Korean, hyung.”_

_“I think Jeno’s chinese is better than yours now.”_

_“Do you even know how to take a selfie?”_

_“I think I can play basketball better than Chenle now.”_

_“Renjun hyung, you should do a sexy pose.”_

_“Chenle is really good at aegyo! He should demonstrate.”)_

It is five hours of that under the baking studio lights, the stark white of the walls starting to become a little too much for Renjun. The director calls for a break and Renjun sways on his feet as he makes his way back to the dressing room, Chenle’s presence heavy as he trails behind him. He weaves between the multitude of tripods and cameramen, sidestepping the occasional light or pile of cables. Chenle doesn’t say anything but he knows he will, the minute they are alone, he can already feel the pressure building like a dam waiting to burst but god, if he isn’t too tired for this.

He takes a detour, walking right past their dressing room into one that he knows is empty because he doesn’t think he can be around people right now. Chenle follows because of course he does — never one to let a battle end unresolved. 

They slip into the cool, darkness of the empty dressing room and Renjun takes a breath for what feels like the first time the entire day. He collapses onto one of the couches and so does Chenle, seating himself just close enough to Renjun to get under his skin. Renjun sighs, eyes slipping shut as he leans back until his head rests on the back of the sofa. “Not now,” he preempts, because he doesn’t need his eyes to know Chenle is opening his mouth to speak.

“Why?” He can hear the grin in his voice and he really, _really,_ just wants to not do this right now.

“Because I’m tired as fuck, Chenle.”

He hears the couch squeak as Chenle moves closer, outfit rubbing against the cheap leather. “Are you? Or are you afraid of losing this round?”

“For fuck’s sake,” he growls, reaching out and finding the collar of Chenle’s outfit even in the darkness of the room. He grabs a handful and shoves, pushing Chenle until he is flat against the back of the sofa and he is straddling Chenle’s thighs. “I told you, _not right now._ Or are you suddenly unable to understand Korean.”

“You’re speaking chinese, hyung,” Chenle answers, smug, and Renjun shoves him against the back of the couch again.

“I really fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Are you sure?” Chenle replies, voice low in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. But he holds his ground, ignoring the way everything about Chenle seems to darken even as he smiles up at him before he leans closer, as close as they had been on the couch that day. “Do you want to kill me or kiss me, _ge?_ ”

“Fuck you,” Renjun says before he crashes his lips into Chenle, teeth catching on his lower lip in a way that has Chenle moaning into his mouth. His hands slip from Chenle’s shirt to his neck, fingers dipping into the strands at the end that haven’t been set with hairspray. And Chenle kisses back, just as hungry, his hands clutching at Renjun’s hips to pull them closer. He slips a hand into Renjun’s shirt and Renjun gasps, allowing Chenle to lick into him in a way that has all his hair standing on end. 

The kiss is heated and desperate, the physical culmination of every single fight they’ve ever had. And yet it still feels like a fight, both of them fighting for control and trying to keep it, fighting to see who can elicit the most noise and who can keep their noises to themselves. Renjun swallows a moan only to tug at the strands of Chenle’s hair, smiling when Chenle shudders under him, fingers gripping hard enough on Renjun’s hip to bruise. The thought makes him heady with want and he doesn’t think before he grinds down on Chenle who pulls away from him with a gasp.

“Hyung,” he pants, breath heavy and grip firm as he pushes Renjun off him. “We shouldn’t. We still have to film.”

Part of Renjun is frustrated that he’d been interrupted but the other part takes it for the victory that it is so he smiles, leaning forward to capture Chenle’s lips again. “I guess I win then,” he breathes against Chenle’s lips before dipping to mouth along the line of his throat, careful to avoid the spots that have makeup.

Chenle sighs as he tips his head, giving Renjun better access to his neck. “You know you always win.”

Renjun smiles against Chenle’s skin as he presses a kiss to the curve of his neck. “Of course.”

That has Chenle huffing out a laugh even as his fingers slip under Renjun’s shirt to dance across the skin of his back. “God, I hate you.”

“Mmm. No, you don’t.”

“You’re right,” Chenle says as he brings Renjun’s head back up so that he can reconnect their lips in one last kiss. “I don’t.”

And that is how it ends.

✂︎

Or not. 

**Author's Note:**

> They return to the main dressing room and Donghyuck takes one look at them in their disheveled state and goes: “That was not what I meant!”
> 
> ——
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments keep me well fed ♡︎
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_) ♥︎


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